Love Letters
by malachite eyes
Summary: Ron is sad and lonely in 7th year, but when strange anonamous love letters start showing up at the breakfast table, Ron finds that love is the most powerfull way to combat lonieness.
1. Part one

Draco Malfoy moved slowly through the trees, skirting the edge of the forbidden forest. The overcast day was making him melancholy, and he had left his lackeys behind to walk alone in the woods and revel in a good pout. Damp trees dripped around him and the soft silence of the woods was unbroken. Draco was really beginning to enjoy the drama of it all when his reverie was broken by a flash of red and the sound of voices floating up from the direction of the lake. Curious, he moved closer. The red revealed itself to be the disheveled mop of a Weasley. Ron looked despondently out over the lake while his companion skipped stones. "What's the matter, Ron?" "Oh I dunno. Just feeling alone I guess. Its horrid being single when 'Mione is with Neville now... I dunno, Harry. Maybe I should try my luck with blokes – at least that way I'll understand what my partner wants most of the time!"

Harry Potter smiled sardonically to himself and thought of Severus. "If you say so, Ron... But I wouldn't count on it. Don't worry mate. You and 'Mione only broke it off last month. Give it some time. I'm sure you'll be with someone else by Christmas." Ron sighed and tossed another stone. The talk moved on to quidditch and the pair dived into analysis of the last school match.

Draco moved back into the woods, dramatic posturing forgotten in exchange for a wicked grin. The Weasel had really filled out in the past year, with tall awkward lankiness giving way to a lean grace. This would be fun. He hadn't had a male lover since Blaze Zabini last year, and poor sad Ronald would make an interesting conquest. Draco walked onward around the lake, smiling to himself as a plan formed in his head. center /center

Ron hated Mondays. His irritation came more from the fact that he had double potions first thing followed by divinations than the usual Monday morning blues, however. At least I get a nap after dealing with the Great Bat, he thought, sighing over his bacon sandwich. With a rustle of wings, the mail descended on the great hall. Ron started in surprise when a lovely black owl dropped a thick vellum envelope on his plate and landed softly next to the toast awaiting his crusts. He distractedly offered her some bacon and bent to examine his mail. The envelope had no return address. It was simple, sealed with a blob of green wax and had RW printed on the front in a neat hand. Intrigued, Ron popped the seal and pulled out the enclosed stationery. His eyes went straight to the bottom looking for a signature, but there was none. The page was blank except for a few lines towards the center.  
biMondays are my favorite days,  
Because your eyes I see – In early morning dungeon dusk,  
You are like a sun,  
Glowing in the murky depths,  
A red brown dawn against black stone walls. /i/b

He felt like his eyes were bugging out of his head. Who? Why? It had to be some kind of joke. He glanced up from his absorption with the poem and realized he was one of the last few at breakfast. Hurriedly, he shoved the parchment in the envelope and shoved the envelope into the bottom of his bag. Then he ran for the dungeons. center /center

In potions that day, Ron used one of Harry and Snape's violent arguments as a cover to examine the faces and the gazes of his fellow classmates. As Harry's yelling rose to a crescendo, and Snape coolly handed out detentions, Ron found every eye fixed on Harry's red face and none on his own. i'I should have known it wouldn't be that easy,'/i he thought to himself, stirring his potion haphazardly.i 'I guess I'll have to wait and see. It could be a joke.'/i

center /center

Tuesday at breakfast, Ron found himself awaiting the mail with a touch of nervous excitement. When he heard the rustling of wings, he peered upward, searching out the black owl. There she was! She swooped in from the corner, carrying a package this time. It was a long wooden box with a filigree clasp and a medallion with a snake fighting a lion carved into the top. The box looked expensive. He was almost afraid to open it, but curiosity overcame nerves and he slowly lifted the lid. As he did so, a slip of vellum fell out; this one was written in the same careful hand as the other, only this time in bright green ink.

biYou are still silence during chaos Your eyes roaming Chill concentration coating brown depths.

You look for me And see me not As I stare in awe through dropped eyelashes.

Some day I hope you will see me. Until then, wear this and think of me.

Red like your hair, like your house.  
And an eye to see what's needed. /i/b

Inside was a lovely red tiger's eye set in gold. Ron slid the necklace on in shock. Ok so maybe this wasn't a joke. Maybe this was... Well he didn't know yet, but it was definitely a distraction from his melancholy. Thoughts of Hermione put aside for the time being, Ron headed off to Herbology.

center /center

Wednesday morning found Ron sleeping in. A small mishap in charms the day before had gotten him a trip to Madam Pomfrey and a half a day off classes. He lay there at 11 o'clock, luxuriating in sleeping in, when a small sound of shuffling startled him to full wakefulness. A house elf stood at the foot of his bed with a breakfast tray and a white vellum envelope. The note inside was only a sentence: The dungeons were darker this morning. Ron smiled to himself. Breakfast in bed from his secret admirer. He, Ron Weasley, the terminal sidekick had a secret admirer. It was time to make a list.

center /center

Thursday morning found Ron once again at breakfast, but distracted. He had made a list of all the members of his potions class and was trying to hazard a guess as to which one his new admirer could possibly be. For a second, he held out a wild hope that it was "Mione, trying to get back together with him, but then he remembered her with Neville, giggling under her breath while Snape was busy doing his daily yelling routine with Harry, and Harry of course was out of the running. Dean and Seamus could be crossed off, since they were both very proudly heterosexual. As Ron continued crossing people off, he began to worry. As he went along, more and more of the remaining possibilities were Slytherin. Maybe this was a twisted joke after all. He fingered his pendant and pondered. "A damned expensive joke," he muttered and stared at the list again. There was no note from the admirer that day, but Ron was too involved with his list to notice.

center /center

Friday morning was rainy and dank; no one wanted to be in class when bed was warm and comforting, and the halls were cold and clammy. Ron huddled over his tea and hated school while he tried to wake the rest of the way up. When the mail came, he saw the little black owl was back, with a rather large box this time. She dropped it in his lap and landed softly to sip his tea and watch him open it. Tied to the top was the usual envelope. 

bi A perfect melding,  
Green and red.  
Gryffindor and Slytherin.  
As we will be. /i/b

The box contained two dozen scarlet roses in full bloom, magically trapped at the point of perfection.

Enough was enough. Ron was intrigued, interested, and very flattered, but he was being driven to distraction by not knowing who this person was. He didn't even know the person's sex. All he knew was that he was being courted by a Slytherin. It was time, Ron decided, to start writing back. He pulled out parchment and quill and began.

biTo my Slytherin Friend –

It feels damn odd writing this since I don't know your name or sex or even if this is a joke or not. I just wanted to say that whatever you are after, you have caught my attention. Won't you write back and tell me something about your self? What do you do for fun? I am fond of chess. Do you follow Quidditch? I do. How much do you know about me anyhow?

Ron/i/b

Decisively, Ron sealed the note and ran to the Owlery to mail it. The little black owl looked at him sideways and chuckled. Clearly she had been expecting him. As she winged off to deliver the note, Ron's nerves finally hit him. Oh god, what had he done? Had he just expressed interest in an unknown Slytherin? He walked slowly back to the common room, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. 


	2. part two

The small black owl winged her way down through the castle and into the dungeons. She sailed into Draco's room and landed neatly on the back of his chair. "Ah, Hecate, who could be writing me at this hour?" Draco untied the scroll from her leg and examined Ron's letter with some surprise. He never expected Weasley to give a damn about the mind of his secret admirer. How intriguing. Did the weasel actually have substance behind the Gryffindork foolishness? He sat back in his chair and stroked Hecate. This could prove to be even more interesting than he'd first thought. He stared at the ceiling for a while, working it all out, and then fell to and wrote madly. ibTo my Favorite Gryffindor –

First let me assuage your fears. This is no joke. I admit that my motives were to entice your interest in my direction, but in order to seduce not to harm. I noticed your single status this year and I had hoped that you might be willing to try a different type of relationship, one with someone not of your own house, and one with a man. Yes, I am male. I admit that I do not know of your preferences in partners, but I have been observing you for some time and I have a feeling that you may be open to the idea. 

You requested information about me, so I will offer some: I am from an old pure blood family, like you yourself, though we tend to be fewer in number than the Weasleys. I myself am an only child. I don't think my mother could ever cope with a brood like your mother does. I can't say I'm sorry, as being the sole heir to my father suits me nicely. I don't think I'll tell you any more, as I would prefer to remain anonymous for now.

My pastimes are few, as I prefer quality over quantity. I do enjoy Quidditch, and prefer to play seeker or chaser. I also play chess. I love the game for its strategy and for its delicacy. Maybe at some future time we will play. For now, I remain,

Your Slytherin Friend/b/i

center /center

And so they wrote. With every letter, Draco found himself more involved and entertained and intrigued. They discussed Quidditch and chess strategies, and debated the merits of government policy and ministry debacles. Ron proved remarkably knowledgeable about the ministry workings, and it interested Draco to see the government from the inside perspective of the workers within it. They debated issues from class and even exchanged essay advice a few times.

When Christmas break rolled around, they had been corresponding for almost 3 months, and were really becoming friends. As December gave way to January, Draco took long walks on the grounds of the Malfoy Estate, Read books and Ron's frequent letters by the fire, and fell head over heels in love. As the spring term approached, he found himself writing love poetry and pining for red hair. Ron was warm, open and bright, whereas he was cold and hard and shallow. He laughed at himself and his lot – he was the sole heir of the Malfoy family, was destined to be a pillar in the wizard community, free to have anyone he wanted. And he was in love with a Weasley. His father would have apoplexy. But for once, Draco really didn't mind. He was drawn to Ron's warmth like a moth to a flame. "And they say I'm shallow," he mumbled to himself, laughing as he bent over his latest letter to Ron. He had to tell him.

ibDearest Ron –

You are light unto my darkness, a balm upon wounded dreams.  
In you I see hope; a life apart, a dream to come.

You are wholesomeness unto my pretense a warm wind blowing cool caresses on my fevered mind.

You are fire unto my ice.  
You melt the walls of upbringing and let me out, you put wings upon my fallen body now free to fly.

You are laughter unto my silence,  
your cheer a safety net beneath the tightrope I walk Your arms stretched out,  
to catch me.

I love you Ron. You see that, I hope. I still can't believe that we have come to this place. When I began this I was looking for sex. I am not ashamed to admit it. But now, here we are. I love you. Now more than ever I remain,  
Your Slytherin Friend/b/i

center /center

Breakfast at the Weasleys started early and ended late. Ron dragged himself out of bed with the dawn, sliding into his chair at the table just as the mail came. He had been doing this every day, in the hopes of catching any letters from Him before his brothers, or worse yet, his mother found them. Today, His suffering was rewarded with an envelope scrawled with the familiar green ink. Using his mother's morning distraction as cover, Ron slipped the letter deep into his pocket, bolted some toast and bacon and headed off to the only relatively private place in The Burrow: the washroom.  
Once there, Ron hunkered down in the tub and added silencing charms and a locking spell to the mechanical deadbolt on the door. Then he settled in to read. By the time he reached the end of the parchment, Ron's world had tilted on its ear.

He sat dazed for a moment, trying to cope with what he'd read. Ron crumpled the letter up into a ball and shoved it deep into his pocket before unlocking the door and heading out. He decided to wander the garden until dinner; at least if he was moving he wouldn't have to think too much. As he walked, he tossed rocks and turned the problem over and over. When had this become so important? When had this pen pal become the center of his world? He packed some snowballs and began to fire them at a tree. This wasn't working. Resignedly, Ron walked on through the field by the burrow. If he couldn't solve the problem, maybe he could just tire himself out. Then he'd be too exhausted to think.  
center /center Later that night, Ron snuck out of his room and curled up in the bath tub with the letter, quill and parchment. He cast a lumos to see by and settled down to write.

ibMy dearest friend –

I can't say that I'm surprised to hear you say you love me. We have been getting closer and closer to each other through these letters and I can't remember what it was like to not have you as a part of my life this way. I get written off a lot – I mean, my best friend is Harry Bloody Potter. But that's my life. You are the first person in my life to really see me. I love that you don't see the sidekick to the Boy Who Lived. So, whatever your reasons were for first approaching me, thank you for that.

As for all the rest, well it's hardly fair is it! I care for you. I know your thoughts and feelings and likes and dislikes. But I still don't know your name. How am I supposed to reconcile you with these Slytherins I know and loathe? Are you Draco Malfoy, who calls me Weasel and has worked to make my life hell for all these years? Or Blaze Zabini, who turns his nose up at everything not Slytherin? I can't imagine it being anyone else. Crabbe and Goyle are too stupid. Theodore Nott is too small and mean, too much a death eater.

So before I can return your declaration of love, you have to confess. You have to give me a chance to get it right in my head. If this is some sort of crazy game you are playing, I don't want to play any more. If not, well if not... I don't know really. Just tell me who you are already.

I can promise you that I will at least try to reconcile this... this thing we have with the faces I have known. This is really the best I can offer.  
Your Gryffindor,  
Ron W./b/i Ron sat back, read the letter over and nodded, satisfied. It was the best he could do. He climbed out of the tub, stretched his cramped muscles and crept back to his room to find Pig. Once the letter had been sent, he tumbled into bed for his first full night of sleep all week. center /center By the middle of January, the spring term at Hogwarts was well underway. The classrooms full of chilly students looked out on a fairy tale world. The beauty of the snow was lost on Ron, however, because he still had not heard from HIM. It was almost impossible to concentrate. In classes he shared with Slytherin, Ron spent more time examining the faces around him than the blackboard in front of him. It was double potions again, and Snape's lecture on the uses of succulents in burn salves and healing potions was completely lost on Ron. All the possible Slytherin boys were there and he couldn't stop examining them for some sign of interest. Distractedly, he started to doodle Blaze's profile on a piece of spare parchment he'd found in his bag. As the ink soaked into the page, it began to revolve in spirals. Blaze's profile resolved itself into a scrolling message. bHello Ron, you've found my note. I thought we might try a more direct form of correspondence. We sit in this room together so many days, and never speak. It's poetic in a way. /b Ron glanced around hurriedly, but everyone was scribbling away, taking frantic notes. Sighing, he turned back to the parchment.

iI've missed you/i. Ron wrote

ibI love you/b/i was the reply.

iTell me who you are. You love me, but what's the point? I mean really. What do you want from me?

bI'm not Crabbe or Goyle./b

Well, that's something anyway. Though I don't think both of them together could have pulled this off.

bI'm not Nott./b

That just leaves Draco the Ferret or Blaze the snob. At least you're nice to look at.

bWho would you like it to be/b

I don't know. I can't reconcile you with either face. You are neither cold nor mean, formal yes, but not cold. You have spirit that I never credited Draco with and kindness that I can't believe Blaze possesses.

bNot the answer I hoped for./b

I'm doing the best I can, here. I coped easily enough with your sex. I coped with your house

bThen it shouldn't be hard to cope with my name. /b

Do you realize your father may have killed mine?

bIt's very likely. My father killed a lot of people in the name of his cause. We can end this here if you want. You are still safely ignorant of my name. This relationship is still long-distance.../b

Who are you kidding? You're in love with me. And I... I care.

bI'm glad. /b

I think I want to see you in person. I think that's the only option now. I think its time.

bDo you/b

Please.

bAll right./b

When?

bMmm... Valentines Day? It's the holiday of lovers, after all./b

True. All right. I know a place... 


End file.
